


I Need You

by PuddinPop



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas sneezing, Castiel's Trenchcoat, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Castiel/Dean Winchester Fluff, Dean Winchester/Castiel - Freeform, Destiel - Freeform, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Smut, Sneezing, dean/cas - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:17:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddinPop/pseuds/PuddinPop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>My friend gave me the prompt "Dean has a thing for trench coats". This is what I came up with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Need You

_Everything about her was still vivid in his mind. Years had passed, yet his thoughts still occasionally went back to her. He could still remember her flowing hair and charcoal eyes. Even her smell would infrequently appear, filling his thoughts and his sinuses with wisps of vanilla and coconut.  
  
She was perfect. He spent all of the two weeks he attended that particular school admiring her from afar. She never even noticed that he existed, which would have been a deterrent for most people, but it just made his fantasies more intense.  
  
Every night during that time and the occasional night since then had been consumed by thoughts of her. Sometimes he would dream of what life they could have had together. The big house, the picket fence, pies cooling on the window, and on the odd occasion, even children. Other nights, his fantasies weren’t so innocent. They would begin with the apple-pie lifestyle, innocently enough, but things would soon turn to the bedroom. It played perceptibly in his mind, their hands everywhere, smothering each other’s bodies. Those nights were his favourite. They were so impromptu, he had to make sure Sam was sound asleep before he allowed his mind to wander.   
  
He remembered the first time he ever saw her. She walked into class that grey Monday morning, auburn hair swaying at her waist, her elfin frame bouncing slightly with each step. A tight white shirt clung to her figure, torn faded jeans hanging from her hips, the odd item of jewelry scattered around her neck, fingers and wrists. A dark coat was draped around her, the sleeves pulled up slightly. A trench coat, maybe?   
  
She sat two chairs in front of him, giving him the perfect view; the guy who sat directly in front of him was absent the entire time he was there and he wasn’t going to question it. This meant, however, that all his classes were pointless as he found himself unable to focus on anything but her. Not that any class he had which wasn’t taught by his father held any sort of merit in his mind. Her eyes shot him a quick flash before she was seated, barely acknowledging his existence.   
  
This routine continued for a while. She walked in, ignored him, he fantasized about her, went home, fantasized more, slept, returned to school, repeat. Until one night, as he laid awake fantasizing about her, he decided he was going to talk to her. At least say “Hi”, make her aware that he was there. The Winchester charm had a pretty low failure rate, yet he somewhat doubted that his usual tricks would work on this girl. He had to plan carefully, try a new tactic. He could, and did, have a bunch of girls following him around, yet his presence seemed to evade her. He needed to plan his tactics carefully though, as he had seen boys approach her before, and witnessed her icy response as she shot them down.  
  
He never usually had a problem approaching girls. All that was required was a quick smile and a wink and they were putty in his hands, but something about this one made his stomach knot and his hands shake. He had decided that tomorrow was going to be the day that he would do it. He would get there early and sit directly behind her. She couldn’t ignore him then. Sure, it meant getting up early, but some things… very few things, were worth making sacrifices. Setting his alarm for 6.45am almost killed him, but she was worth it. He made a mental note to keep reminding himself of this fact when the alarm sounded.  
  
As he laid in bed, Sammy snoring beside him, his plans for the following day played across his mind. How we was going to do it, what he was going to say, what he was going to wear. He finally had a solid plan in his mind and started to drift off to sleep. It didn’t take long before he was suddenly startled back to reality by a loud ringing. He answered the motel room phone to find it was John. They had to leave town. Now.  
  
They left town in the middle of the night. They never found out the exact reasons why; John was always very evasive about this particular case. He never told and eventually, the boys gave up asking. As the car pulled away, his stomach sank as he watched everything disappear in the rear view mirror. The town, the school, the girl. He never saw her again.   
  
Of everything he remembered, you’d had thought he remembered her name. Anya, or Anika or something. He remembered it being foreign, but that was about it. He thought of her sporadically, but as the years went on, she became less at the forefront of his mind and more a guilty pleasure. These days, his thoughts only drifted to her when things were getting intimate. There were still things that reminded him of her though, and each time he came across one, he had a hard time controlling his emotions. And his urges._  
  
“Dean? _Dean!_ ”  
  
He was roused from his dreams to see Sam standing at the foot of his bed. Despite his dreams being disturbed, he always awoke in a good mood when he had been dreaming of her. Also, the fact that Sam had returned with coffee meant that he couldn’t feel anything but content.  
  
He drank his coffee, the taste sharp and familiar. In the shower, he sang loudly and tunelessly, something he only did if he had a distinctive reason to be happy. Which, these days, was a rare occurrence. He had absolutely no reason to be down. He and Sam were working a case which was actually proving successful, the sun was shining, birds were singing. Nothing could bring him down today.   
  
Once showered and dressed, he emerged from the bathroom. Beginning to pack his bag, he noticed Sam lost in thought at the table. Sam had already packed. Of course he had, the guy never slept. Hauling his bag over his shoulder, he made his way to the door.  
  
“C’mon Grumbles, we’re losing daylight. I’m starving.”  
  
Sam barely acknowledged he even spoke, but hauled his own things over his shoulder and made his way outside.  
  
It wasn’t long before they had found somewhere to eat, had eaten and were back on the road, making their way to Brocton, Illinois. It was a small, sleepy town. Nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened there, but there was definitely a case. Seven people in the past three months were found hung from the same tree. The police had stated it was a string of suicides, but Sam and Dean had been working these cases for long enough to know that something out of the ordinary was going on. Ordinary. What was that, anyway? Damned if either of them knew.  
  
It was a long drive, which was made longer by Dean wanting to stop every couple of hundred miles to get supplies. Supplies my ass, the guy never stopped eating. Sam eyed him frustratedly as Dean shoved his face into a moon pie. This was the third stop they had made, and it was barely even noon. Sam was about to say something when Dean held his hand up, in a motion to stop him before he even began.  
  
“Keep your hair on, Matilda, we’re leaving.”  
  
Sam shot him a bitch-look but bit his lip and said nothing. It was rare for Dean to be in such high spirits, especially for this length of time, and despite how annoying his brother could be in instances like this, he was glad that he was actually feeling good.  
  
It was nightfall before they found a motel to stay in, and most of the rooms had been booked out. This struck them as rather unusual, given that the town had a total of 600 residents. They weren’t going to dwell on it, but it was still a little strange.  
  
Once inside, the tiny room boasted one single bed, one chair, a tiny TV on a stand at the end of the bed, a toilet in the corner of the room and little else. They both eyed up the room, almost frozen in disbelief. Dean looked at Sam and grinned.  
  
“Dibs on the bed,” Dean winked and dived across the room, landing sideways on the bed.  
  
“You have got to be kidding me,” Sam sighed.  
  
“What’s wrong Princess, is the lack of a four-poster bed going to be an issue?”  
  
Sam clenched his fist and pressed it against his mouth, biting down on his knuckles. He sighed before picking up his bag.  
  
“I’m gonna go book another room. You stay here.”  
  
Dean just nodded and saluted before settling back onto the bed, finding the remote and flicking the TV on. He wasn’t hungry from all the junk he ate from earlier, so he decided to skip dinner. The thought of eating a few feet away from a toilet didn’t really appeal to him much anyway.   
  
Some time had passed and Dean found that his eyes were staying closed longer and longer each time he blinked. Sam had already been back to say which room he was in and asked if he wanted some dinner (to which he oh-so-reluctantly agreed to) so he wouldn’t be hearing from him for the rest of the night. Thank god. As much as he loved the kid, he also loved having a night to himself without the constant glow of the laptop filling the room or Sam’s shuffling and grunting in his sleep. The day spent driving had really taken it out of him, not to mention the good mood that he’d been sporting all day. He wasn’t used to it, and he felt himself begin to drift to sleep as the black and white TV played some old western movie.  
  
He had just about crossed over into his unconscious when he heard a rush of air and a small thud. It would probably have gone unnoticed to most people, but the number of years he had been doing this job had taught him to be vigilant to even the slightest noise. He sat up in bed, reaching behind him under his pillow and grasped his fingers around the knife that he always kept there. A black figure was barely visible in the corner of the room, which made Dean tighten his grip on the knife. The glow of the TV made it impossible to see who was there, but as it approached him and more details came into focus, he sighed and relaxed.  
  
“Y’ever heard of a light switch?” Dean grumbled, his voice thick with sleep.  
  
The figure stopped for a moment, as if confused and felt along the wall. It found what it had been searching for and the room was flooded with brightness. Dean flinched and squinted his eyes, looking up at the figure which was gradually beginning to look more like Cas. The dark hair was the first thing to come into focus, shortly followed by the pale face with bright eyes. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see Cas clearly now. His face, his clothes.  
  
As soon as he saw the coat, he swallowed hard. It was exactly the same as hers. A different colour, sure, but still the same. Why had he never noticed until now?  
  
“Why are you here, Cas?” Dean asked, looking away. He was trembling ever so slightly which was almost apparent in his voice.  
  
“You called me, Dean,” Cas replied.  
  
Dean’s expression flickered for a moment, his thoughts still clouded by sleep. He tried to recall if he had called for Cas. Every thought he replayed over in his mind showed no implication that he had called for the angel.  
  
“Uh, Cas, I didn’t-“ Dean began, but as he tried to explain, the angel’s expression became darker, almost with disappointment. Dean’s heart sank for a moment and his face relaxed with pity. For the first time, he noticed how drained the angel looked. His stomach turned as he looked up at Cas, his heart beginning to palpitate, the sound thumping through his ears. In that moment, he didn’t want Cas to leave. He sighed deeply.  
  
“You want a beer?” Dean asked, walking over to his cooler box and taking two out. Cas didn’t respond, but Dean opened them both anyway and passed one to him, standing inches in front of him. Cas took the beer and looked at it with perplexion, but after watching Dean take a long gulp, he did the same.  
  
It wasn’t like something he had tasted before. The truth was, he had never actually tasted anything. Being an angel of the Lord meant that his vessel didn’t require food, drink or sleep, so he had never bothered with any of what humans called “pleasures”. If he didn’t require food or water, then he saw no need in engaging in something that even humans didn’t require to survive. Alcohol had always eluded him; why humans would render their minds and bodies completely incapacitated was something that he had never understood. Still, it did taste good and he did feel himself beginning to relax after a few more swigs. Dean backed away from Cas and sat on the end of the bed, but Cas remained standing, looking slightly awkward.   
  
They drank their beers in silence. Dean was completely wrapped up in his thoughts. Cas turning up out of nowhere, and wearing that coat threw Dean to a place that had him confused. Sure, Cas had always worn that coat, but this was the first time he had thought of her because of it. How could he have missed it? He thought about her more than he thought about a lot of things, and he had been reminded of her much more by much less. He closed his eyes, his thoughts drawn to her. Again, his pulse quickened and his throat became dry. What he was feeling that moment confused and excited him. He couldn’t seem to regain composure, until he was abruptly brought back to reality.  
  
_“Ihh- **TSCH** huh!”_  
  
Dean’s head snapped up and looked at Cas, who was standing with the empty bottle in one hand, the back of his wrist pressed firmly against his nose with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. He sniffed and looked back to Dean, his eyes wide with panic.  
  
“Y’alright?” Dean asked, successfully choking back his laughter. He couldn’t quite keep the slight smile from spreading across his lips though. _  
  
_ “I.. don’t know,” Cas replied, holding the bottle in front of his face, almost like it was responsible for the sudden expulsion from him.  
  
Dean’s smile grew wider as he noticed Cas’ expression quiver. His mouth fell open slightly, his nostrils flaring as the shallow breaths began. He looked at Dean with wide eyes before they were squeezed shut and his body was wrenched to the side.  
  
_“Hh’hih **TCH** uu’! Iih’tsh **CHUH** hh!”  
  
_The power from the sneezes jerked Cas’ body forward, leaving him with disheveled hair and glassy eyes. From the expression on his face, Dean could tell this was something that Cas had not experienced before, and he almost felt guilty for taking such amusement from it.  
  
“Bless y’, Cas,” Dean muttered, still smiling. Cas eyed him with concern and set the bottle down on the table.   
  
“I don’t understand,” Cas said, sniffing gently.   
  
“Could be the alcohol.” Dean shrugged. He felt awkward, like he was on a first date and not knowing what to say. He couldn’t deny to himself that in that moment, he felt attracted to Cas. What he couldn’t figure out was if it was Cas he was attracted to or whether it was the memories that came flooding into his mind from the coat. I mean, Cas was a good looking guy, that much was clear. Plus he was one of Dean’s closest friends – if not _the_ closest friend he had. Would it be considered immoral to be attracted to an angel? Well, what was the worst that could happen? He’d go to hell. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Dean had never been one for resisting temptation. His restraint was virtually non-existent, and as for self-control? Where was the fun in that?  
  
Confliction was abhorrent to him. As he sat watching the confused angel mere inches in front of him, he was torn between making his move or not. Going ahead could jeopardise his relationship with Cas, not to mention if it completely freaked him out. He could lose Cas forever, and Lord knows how much they needed him. Not to mention how he would explain his absence to Sam and Bobby. Still, he just couldn’t control his animalistic urges.  
  
“Cas.” Dean gripped the sleeve of Castiel’s coat gently, pulling him so they were facing each other. Dean stood up from their bed, their noses brushing together gently as their eyes locked on to each other.  
  
“Dean, I-“ Cas started, but was quickly silenced by one of Dean’s fingers being placed softly against his lips.  
  
“Shh,” Dean whispered, as he moved his hand away from Castiel’s mouth and ran his course fingertips down the length of Cas’ jawline.  
  
Dean felt Cas shiver slightly as his fingers ran down the angel’s cheek and he moved his lips closer, his eyes closing. Their lips pressed together, both of them breathing heavily, Cas more so. It was apparent that Cas had never even kissed anyone before, yet this didn’t bother Dean at all. In fact, it made him feel even better. He linked his fingers into Castiel’s with his free hand as they continued to kiss, their tongues now delving deeper into each other’s mouths.   
  
Castiel’s discomfort was apparent to begin with, and Dean almost stopped several times, but each time he began to pull away he was pulled back by Cas’ hand on the back on his head, crushing their lips together again.  
  
After a moment of feverant kissing, they pulled away, panting slightly. Dean sat back on the bed and tugged on Cas’ coat gently, pulling him down onto him. He placed both hands behind Castiel’s head and pulled him down, their flat stomachs pressing together. They continued to kiss passionately, their tongues intertwining. The taste of the beer lingered on Dean’s breath, and like when he was drinking it, that taste alone made Cas want more. However, just as Cas began to fumble around with Dean’s shirt, Dean grabbed his wrists gently.  
  
“Cas…” His whispers were barely audible; he couldn’t fathom if it was from the arousal, the angel’s weight crushing down on him or a combination of both but he was struggling to speak. His words caught in his throat, making his voice low and raspy, like he was suffering from a bad case of laryngitis.   
  
The angel stopped, wide eyes boring into Dean with a look of utter perplexion. Not that this was much different from Cas’ usual demeanour.   
  
“I… I thought this is what you wanted.” Castiel’s voice was just as strained as Dean’s; however, he was certain that this was a result of his arousal, and solely his arousal.   
  
Dean began to sit upright, causing the angel to roll over onto his side so he was laying next to him. His eyes sparked with emotion; confusion, arousal, bewilderment and even a hint of sadness flickered across his orbs. For a moment, Dean felt sorry for the bastard. He knew how frustrating it was to be led on by someone you care about only to be denied any form of alleviation.  
  
“I’m sorry, Cas.” Moments of awkward silence passed before Dean was able to mutter these three words; they were the only thing he could think to say. It was also one of the rare occasions where an apology that left Dean Winchester’s mouth actually held some sincerity to it. He really was sorry; he would have liked nothing more than to ride the angel into the night, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. He knew that it was more the thoughts of the girl that had sparked his arousal rather than Cas and it just wasn’t fair to the guy to have them both become emotionally involved.  
  
Cas’ dewy eyes saddened as he averted his gaze away from Dean, sighing softly.  
  
“I understand.”  
  
As soon as the words left Castiel’s mouth, Dean could have sworn he only blinked, but the angel was gone and sunlight was pouring in through the windows. Somehow, it was morning, and Cas was nowhere to be seen. Dean could tell he was the only one present in the motel room, but he had a strange desire to search it anyway, just in case Cas was in the bathroom. His suspicions were confirmed and he slumped back down against the bed, mixed feelings of contentment and regret washing over him.   
  
He turned over in bed to find a single black feather resting on the pillow which Cas had laid upon the previous night. Dean twirled the feather between his fingers before ducking his head down, his chin pressing against his chest as his eyes closed.  
  
“I love you too, you son of a bitch.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, I started writing this so long ago. My friend came up with some hilarious prompts for some Destiel fics and I took them a little seriously. This one was seriously "Dean has a thing for trench coats". This is what I did with it.


End file.
